


It'd be easy if I hated you

by atresia



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Exes, F/F, Getting Back Together, Song fic exchange, Song: If I Hated You (FLETCHER)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atresia/pseuds/atresia
Summary: What else is she supposed to do when the things she loves about Crystal, her favorite bits, the little pieces that she wants to keep as happy memories are all of the same bits that make her feel like a bruise?
Relationships: Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	It'd be easy if I hated you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodemethyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodemethyd/gifts).



> Written as part of a song fic exchange on Tumblr.
> 
> To @goodemethyd – it has been great getting to know you these past couple of weeks. Sure, I was intimidated and felt so much pressure having to write for you and writing this has been a journey™️ (I’m pretty sure you know of my struggles) but all in all I enjoyed writing this and trying to get out of my comfort zone. I really do hope you like it.

**_If I hated you, I know that  
_** **_I could do this on my own_ **

Gigi’s having _a day_ so she decides that maybe doing mundane chores on a Wednesday afternoon will distract her enough from going into a full-blown bad mood. She’s standing in the freezer aisle of the grocery store, busy deciding between mint chocolate chip and cookie dough ice cream, when she gets a whiff of something and suddenly it smells like hot summer nights spent high as a kite, laying out on the grass in the backyard looking up at the stars. Suddenly it smells like cold winter afternoons spent cuddling under an itchy knitted throw, watching _Love Actually_ for the eleven-hundredth time. Suddenly it smells like Monday mornings scrambling to get ready to beat the morning traffic rush, occasionally stopping to button a blouse or tuck in a stray piece of hair. Suddenly it smells like neck kisses. Like lazy make-out sessions. Like angry fucking. Like makeup sex. It smells happy. And sad. And comforting. It smells like a hug – _the hug_ – Gigi knows she badly needs today.

This – what just happened – she’s not sure she likes it. It feels too visceral. 

The plan is to do groceries, wash the dishes that are a seemingly constant presence in the sink, clean the apartment, maybe organize her closet if there’s still time. The plan isn’t to think about her. The plan is _never_ to think about her – not anymore. But this smell, obviously not distinctly _her_ because she’s enveloped in it and she’s not here (Gigi checked), is sending her mind into a mild panic. How silly, she thinks, that her heart is slamming so hard against her ribcage because of this perfume. A perfume of all things. So maybe chores can wait until the weekend because her mood just took a turn for the worse.

She’s pouring herself a third glass of gin and tonic (more like three-quarters gin and a teeny tiny splash of tonic, for show) when Gigi decides that she’s in this mood and in her feels anyway, why not go all in. She allows herself to think about Crystal and the way things ended between them. It’s not ideal and she knows it’s not healthy but sometimes, she thinks, it’s what she needs. Maybe to figure out what really went wrong, how she could have changed things, how she could have saved them.

She thinks back on the way she tugged on Crystal’s hand and the way Crystal turned to look at her like she already knew what she was about to say, the way her chest hurt when she tried and failed to get the words out, the way Crystal’s face didn’t break when she said “this isn’t working anymore, isn’t it?”, the way her tears fell when she nodded yes. If she concentrates well enough, she swears she could feel the way Crystal squeezed her hand before she dropped it, she could hear the way Crystal’s voice cracked when she said “I’m sorry”, she could feel the warmth that Crystal seems to always radiate when she hugged her one last time. 

Sometimes, Gigi thinks, it would be easier for her if she harbored negative feelings towards Crystal. It’d be easier to move on with her life if Crystal was a jerk and they ended things on a bad note. But she isn’t – Crystal could never be the bad guy, at least in her eyes. And the breakup wasn’t even bad – it was mutual and amicable and just the bookend to a relationship that was gradually unraveling. 

This isn’t the first time Gigi finds her thumb hovering over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at her almost tauntingly. On better days, she’d like to think her emotional intelligence is high enough to stop her from texting but alcohol makes her reckless, making her make decisions out of impulsiveness and neediness.

_Hey_.

Delete.

_Hi Crys._

Delete.

_Hey, what’s up?_

Delete.

_I miss you._

She presses send before she overthinks it and as it is, finds herself passing out on the couch with her phone still in her hand.

Gigi doesn’t see Crystal’s reply until she blinks awake at ten in the morning – late for work, late for life.

_Miss you too G xx_

It’s strange, she thinks, that she spent eight years of her life knowing everything there is to know about Crystal – how she’s particular about the soft scramble of her eggs, the exact length of the scar down her thigh from a biking accident when she was twelve years old, the exact way she can kiss her neck to make her putty in her hands – and then to sit here like an idiot, not knowing if Crystal telling her she misses her too is real or not real. If she concentrates on it too hard, she knows she'll drive herself crazy trying to make sense of it all.

The only wish Gigi makes every day when she wakes up is to _just be okay_. Most days, Gigi can not tell how she got _there_ – there, where she can stand in front of her closet and pick out clothes that don’t remind her of the ways Crystal has taken them off her, where she can use her favorite coffee mug without thinking of the way Crystal chipped her tooth with it and just laughed the whole drive to the dentist, where she can buy the toothpaste they used to use together without thinking of the way Crystal tastes when she kisses her goodbye every morning. 

Some days, and today feels like one of those days, she feels like she’s still _here_ – here in square one. It really isn’t easy. In fact, it’s work – a lot of work – to make a conscious effort to stop herself from thinking, overthinking, remembering.

And of course, because she allowed herself to be in her feelings, the universe thinks she has the right to pile on. Crystal is in everything. She’s everywhere.

In the lady who had to repeat to the barista not to add any sugar to her coffee because she likes it _black_ black. 

In the car with their top-down next to her at the stoplight blasting Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches. 

In the child who was throwing a tantrum at the store, insisting that he wants a donkey piñata at his birthday party. 

In the speck of glitter that she finds stuck on her elbow after she’s done cleaning her car. 

In the pumpkin spice scented room spray Nicky bought for her that just smells absolutely horrendous. She remembers almost throwing up when Crystal bought this exact same room spray, thinking it smelled delicious (it doesn’t). 

In the bottle of almost-gone seasoning mix that she can’t even read the name of – one that Crystal insisted they needed to buy to make this _one_ thing that they only made once. 

What else is she supposed to do when the things she loves about Crystal, her favorite bits, the little pieces that she wants to keep as happy memories are all of the same bits that make her feel like a bruise?

**_Wish I could've loved you better  
_** **_Wish you'd kiss me; wish I wasn't me_ **

“You’ll get home okay?” Jaida asks her, tucking some hair behind Gigi’s ear. 

Gigi nods. “Happy birthday, sweets,” Gigi says, leaning in to hug her friend. 

“Happy birthday to you too,” she says, returning the hug. “It was a good one this year, no?”

Gigi shrugs and makes a non-committal sound as she releases Jaida from their hug. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Just different this year.” It’s the first time in eight years that she’s celebrated her birthday without Crystal.

Jaida knows why it’s different this year, why she finished a bottle of tequila alone, why she kept on looking at the door to see who’s coming in. “You still love her.” It’s not a question. And Gigi thinks it will never be a question.

“I- Just- Jaida, I _want_ her to be here.”

“Okay, okay,” she says with a comforting pat on the back, “We’ll talk more about this when we’re both sober, okay? We’ll figure out how to patch you right back up.”

Gigi nods, deciding that this is the end of this conversation. They wait in silence for Gigi’s Uber to come. Jaida kisses her cheek good night when it does and makes her promise to text the moment she gets home and of course says yes. She buckles herself in and waves goodbye. 

The ride home lulls Gigi to sleep and she finds herself woken up by her Uber driver, letting her know that she’s home. She thanks him and gets out of the car only to discover that she, in fact, isn’t home. Not _her_ home. Not anymore.

Gigi recognizes her surroundings and quickly sobers up – as sober as she can get after eight (she’s not really sure of how many, might have been the whole bottle) tequila shots. She looks at her phone and figures out how she got here. Of course, her Uber app still has this address set as home even though she hasn’t lived here in six months. 

She knows she should just order another car and head home like this mistake never happened. But she’s already here. And she’s really fucking drunk. And she’s been thinking about Crystal all week. And if she wants to be honest with herself, she misses her so much it hurts. 

She reaches the door and rings the bell before she can think any better of it. She checks the time _after_ she rings the bell and thinks maybe it’s a bad idea. It obviously is – she’s drunk and it’s three in the fucking morning. But she’s here. She’s already rang the bell. And now she can hear movement coming from the inside, she can hear the door unlocking, she can see the door opening, and she can see Crystal’s sleepy face as it shows up from behind the door. 

“Hi.”

“Gigi?” Crystal rasps, still trying to wipe the sleep off her eyes. 

“Why weren’t you there?” Gigi tries to sound mad and accusatory but all she sounds right now is sad and pathetic. 

“Where?” 

“At the party.”

Crystal scratches her head. “I didn’t think you’d want me there,” she whispers.

“What about Jaida? Didn’t you want to be there for her?” _Yes_ , Gigi thinks to herself, _be mad on Jaida’s behalf_.

“She knew I wasn’t coming,” Crystal shrugs. “I’m taking her out for a birthday lunch sometime this week.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I didn’t know you weren’t coming and I wanted you to be there.”

Crystal takes a deep breath and Gigi, for a split second, thinks she was going to say that the breakup has been a mistake and they should forget about everything that has happened and they could ride into the sunset to live happily ever after. Instead, she asks Gigi what she’s doing at her house, drunk, at three in the morning. 

“I - I don’t know.”

Crystal moves to open the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

“I don’t, no,” she says. And she really doesn’t. This isn’t her space anymore; it’s Crystal’s. And her drunk self can’t take it. She doesn’t want to see Crystal pattering around in a space that they once shared and sit there as a guest – unexpected, maybe unwanted, but still a guest. 

She turns to sit on the front step instead. She shuts her eyes and lowers her head between her legs. If this is to stop herself from throwing up or to stop herself from looking at Crystal with the heart eyes she knows she has, she’s not quite sure. But she keeps that position until she hears the door shut, until she feels a warm presence beside her, until she feels an arm encircle her.

The way she immediately leans against Crystal and lets her wrap her in her arms is instinctive and she catches herself before she could bury her face further against her chest – where it smells like warmth and clean laundry and just the vaguest hint of her woody perfume.

“Sorry,” she whispers as she scoots away, looking slightly embarrassed at the way her body reacts to Crystal.

“Did you have a good time at your party?”

Gigi raises a brow at her. “Is this what we’re doing?”

“What?”

“Sit here and make small talk like we _don’t_ _know_ each other?”

Crystal takes a deep breath as if trying to think of something to say – but she says nothing. She sits there quietly, hands tugging her robe closer for more warmth, hair disheveled from sleep, eyes curiously looking at Gigi. 

Gigi lets the silence sit between them for a beat before word vomiting everything she’s been holding on to for the last six months. 

“I just miss you all the time and I’ve tried to get over it, get over you but nothing is ever good enough.”

_Get over_ is the wrong phrase to use because she’s not over her and she probably never will be. She can learn how to be Crystal’s friend, maybe – but she’s not sure she can learn how to balance that with still being in love with her. Gigi thinks she needs to start getting used to living a life without her. 

“I keep thinking about how I used to feel like we were a forever thing and wow, fuck, now we’ve been broken up what? Six months? And I’m running out of reasons to justify why we aren’t together anymore.”

She looks over at Crystal who has suddenly found the ground and her feet to be more interesting. She knows this Crystal, though – this Crystal who would get up from bed in the middle of the night and sit on her front step cold and barefoot and in her pajamas to listen. This Crystal would let her ramble on just to get her feelings out. This Crystal is not thinking of anything to say back; she’ll think about that when Gigi has said her piece. 

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to lay in bed at night, in the dark, and not miss you? To keep on telling myself that dreaming about getting back together with you is only a dream?” Gigi takes a deep breath and tells herself not to cry. “It’s so fucking hard, Crystal. Wouldn’t it be easier if I hated you so I didn’t have to feel this way?”

Crystal sighs and shifts to take a good look at her. Gigi gives her a moment to collect her thoughts. But she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches her hand up to Gigi’s face and Gigi looks at her suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Eyelash,” she says, picking it up from her right cheek and showing it to Gigi. “Make a wish.”

Gigi closes her eyes for longer than necessary. She wishes for a lot of things – she wishes she wasn’t here right now, she wishes Crystal would kiss her, she wishes she’d forget but also not forget, she wishes they’d get back together. But the alcohol in her bloodstream is just the right amount of warming to let her be honest about her biggest one. “Wish I could’ve loved you better,” she says with her eyes still closed. 

She hears Crystal whisper her name in a way she knows she’s about to say something sweet, something meaningful, something so very Crystal so she groans out loud to stop Crystal from saying something. “I need to go home,” Gigi says, getting up from the step.

Crystal gets up with her, making sure she’s near enough in case Gigi stumbles. “Let me drive you home,” she offers.

“I can just order a car,” Gigi says, pulling out her phone from her coat pocket.

Crystal rolls her eyes at her. “I’m here; my car’s right there.”

“Okay,” Gigi nods. 

Crystal tells her she’ll be quick to get her keys and a coat and Gigi contemplates ordering a car anyway. But Crystal’s back as quickly as she promised.

“Ready?”

Gigi nods. She feels a warm hand on the small of her back guiding her to the car. It feels natural, it feels _them_. But Gigi knows it shouldn’t. She quickly buckles herself in the passenger seat and leans her head against the window.

She’s not quite as drunk now but she’s not quite sober either; everything is still a bit fuzzy around the edges. It hits Gigi, as she sees Crystal sliding into the seat, how fucking awkward this is. They haven’t seen each other in months yet here they are at almost four in the morning being whatever it is they are right now. This feels like what it really is – exes awkwardly trying to reconcile what’s left of their friendship.

“I’m sorry,” Gigi says, breaking the awkward silence that’s been sitting between them since they started driving.

Crystal glances quickly at her. “For what?”

“For things.” For dragging Crystal out of bed to drive her home. For looking a mess and feeling like it too. For how things ended – for ending things at all. For still being in love with Crystal. 

There’s still a lot to say and also nothing else left to say. It’s quiet the rest of the ride except for Crystal humming to a song playing in her head.

Crystal pulls into Gigi’s driveway and Gigi doesn’t move to get out right away, feeling like there’s something important she still wants to say amongst the drunken rambling she’s already done. She wants to stay but she also wants to leave. And when she finally decides it’s taking too long and it’s making things too awkward and she’s one leg out of the car, Crystal stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Gee?”

“Yes?”

“You said you wish you could’ve loved me better and I don’t think you could have.” 

“I– Crys, what do you mean?”

“You loved me enough and you loved me best.”

“Oh.” Gigi stares at her for a beat, hand gripping the car door handle tighter.

“Just– it’s just I know it’s not great right now between us but…”

“Crys?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for driving me home,” she says, getting out of the car – finally. Her heart can’t take any more emotions. 

“Right, of course,” Crystal nods to herself as Gigi shuts the door. 

Gigi waves goodbye as she watches Crystal drive away, waiting for the sound of her car to fizzle out completely before making her way inside.

**_You know I dream about  
_** **_Getting back together in the future  
_ ** ****_I could focus on you_

It starts when Gigi decides that she most definitely must text Crystal a thank you for driving her home and an apology for waking her up in the middle of the night. It’s short and simple and direct to the point. It doesn’t leave room for misinterpretation and room for extra conversation. 

What she doesn’t expect is for Crystal to keep texting. For it to spark a whole chain of texts. 

First, it’s just the casual _hi, hello, how are you_?

Then it’s a _Merry Christmas_. 

And a _Happy New Year_. With a lingering unsaid _wish you were my new year’s kiss. But it’s okay, I’d rather have none than it to be not you._

Then it becomes _hey, I saw this and remembered you._ A link to a funny Twitter thread. A depreciating Tumblr post. A viral TikTok video. A YouTube clip from a TV show they used to watch together. 

Then they’re randomly hanging out to get coffee for a long catch up. Then it becomes a standing afternoon snack coffee date. 

Out for lunch. First to try that place near Gigi’s work. Then once a week. 

Out for dinner. Always just the two of them, both scared to involve other people and acknowledge whatever it is they are – casual places first then eventually date night places that they used to go to or places they said they’d try. 

“Are we friends?” Gigi asks her one night. 

“I don’t know, is that what you want?” 

They aren’t friends. They’re more than that but they’re also less than that.

It’s not like things between her and Crystal ended on bad terms. Sure, it was a bit disjointed in the end when they both realized they wanted different things out of the relationship – Gigi wanting independence and flexibility and Crystal wanting constancy and marriage. But really, there’s no denying that there was love there. That there’s still love here.

“I don’t know either. But I like this, whatever this is,” she says. And it’s true. 

It’s natural. This. Them. If anything, the weirdest thing about this is how natural it feels, how easily they fall back into a routine as if they’d never stopped.

Gigi’s phone keeps blowing up when she’s at dinner with Jaida. She instinctively reaches out to her phone every time it buzzes, always so quick to respond. 

“Geege, have you met someone new without telling me?” she teases, trying to peek at Gigi’s phone. 

“What?”

“You have that look on your face.”

“Oh, um, it’s just Crystal,” she says, showing Jaida her phone – not like there’s anything to hide. But also, yes, there’s something to hide. Jaida doesn’t have to know that the lock screen on her phone is still that picture of her and Crystal at Coachella. 

“I didn’t know you were friendly again. When did that happen?”

“Since our party.”

“That long?”

Gigi nods. Yes, that long. It’s now already Spring, almost Crystal’s birthday.

“That stupid look on your stupid face is a look I haven't seen in almost a year.”

“What about it?”

“I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I'm just saying I think you should be careful.”

Part of her is screaming not to get her hopes up – that maybe this is just them talking it out and getting the closure that they need. But there’s also the other part, a bigger part, that hopes this is them finally swallowing their pride and fixing what they couldn’t fix. But the thing is, Gigi’s hopes are already so up there.

“What is it you want from her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to be friends? Do you want to close the space a little? Do you want to try getting back together?”

“I don’t know how to be around her and not fucking feel everything.”

Ideally, she would like to reach a point where thinking of Crystal, talking about Crystal, talking to Crystal doesn't leave her aching inside. But she feels like a string that has been pulled on too many times. Gigi feels defeated and just allows herself to acknowledge everything that her brain has already taken notice of. 

“I want her back. She’s the love of my life, Jaida. How did we let this happen?”

Jaida goes on a whole tirade about something or another but Gigi doesn’t hear any of it because she’s busy dying inside from the text exchange that is happening. 

_Thinking of opening a bottle of wine and starting a movie. Want to join?_

Gigi’s feeling bold and flirty. 

_Miss me already?_

And she expects nothing but honesty from Crystal. 

_Yes_. 

She looks up at Jaida, she can’t hear her but she’s still talking. “J, I have to go,” she says. 

_I don’t know if you know this but you’re very hard to stay away from._

_Don’t start without me._

The way the space between them on the couch shrinks gradually each time one of them gets up and comes back from the toilet or back with snacks and drinks does not go unnoticed. They don’t say anything about it and they don’t shy away when they start leaning into each other. When Gigi notices Crystal starting to doze off in the middle of their second movie, she lets her rest her head against her shoulder.

Crystal shifts against her, shoulders rising rhythmically, breath steady, sighing quietly in her sleep. Crystal tucks her face further into Gigi’s shoulder, and Gigi presses her cheek against Crystal’s head, and she knows she's going to be stuck loving this person in her arms for the rest of her life – whether Crystal loves her the same way or not. 

She thinks back to the last time they sat on this couch, supposedly watching one of Crystal’s favorite movies, but giving up the pretense of paying attention to the movie about fifteen minutes in to enjoy each other’s mouths instead.

This feels intimate, far too intimate for what they are right now. In the back of her mind, Gigi finds it hard to believe how she had tried to imagine a future with this intimacy and togetherness and decided that it wasn’t for her. 

It’s a little past midnight and if Gigi is being totally honest with herself, she doesn’t ever want to leave. She sinks her nose into Crystal’s hair and inhales deeply – her smell always intoxicating; now smelling like a dream she once had.

“Crys,” Gigi whispers, gently shaking her awake. She really doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want this night to end, doesn’t want to say goodbye (tonight or ever again).

“Hmm?” Crystal grumbles, leaning in closer without opening her eyes.

“I have to go.”

Crystal stays still and Gigi thinks she’s fallen back asleep.

“Crys, I have to go,” she repeats. 

Crystal sits up straight to look at Gigi. “Or you can stay,” she suggests, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

Gigi turns to look at Crystal straight in the eyes, silently hoping that Crystal understands that really, she doesn’t want to go home either. But they both know she should. “I really shouldn’t be here.” Gigi reluctantly gets up from the couch and holds her hand out to Crystal. “Are you going to walk me to the door?”

Crystal lets herself be pulled up to her feet and stretches out her neck and back before grabbing Gigi’s hand again to walk her to the door. Gigi drops Crystal’s hand when she puts on her shoes and when she straightens up again, she sees a look in Crystal’s eyes – it’s familiar but it’s also hesitant. 

“This was good, right?”

“It was, I’m glad we could spend time like this.”

Gigi sees Crystal hesitate for a fleeting moment and what she says is not what Gigi was expecting at all. “You were it for me, you know? You still are. And I want that back, what we had,” Crystal says reaching out to take Gigi’s hand in hers again.

There’s still that space between them that hasn’t been breached yet. And Gigi isn’t sure how to get past it. But apparently, Crystal can dive into it headfirst.

Gigi tries to keep her face neutral but it isn’t so easy when her heart wants to beat out of her chest. She’s in love with her. She always has been. And she thinks she always will be, in all of the best and worst ways.

“I’m scared it will be the same. But also not the same. Do you know what I mean?”

All they’d ever done was love each other so much, too much, and it still had not been enough.

“It doesn’t have to be anything, does it? It just has to be you and me.”


End file.
